


After Farpoint

by GrayArcadian



Series: Interface - Part One: Memory [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Cute, F/M, Gen, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23390329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrayArcadian/pseuds/GrayArcadian
Summary: Data comes to speak to Tasha about their experiences at Farpoint Station and the conversation turns.
Relationships: Data/Tasha Yar
Series: Interface - Part One: Memory [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682440
Comments: 13
Kudos: 19





	After Farpoint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlizzardRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlizzardRose/gifts).



"The hand is the visible part of the brain."  
Immanuel Kant

  
When he found her, she was staring out the window on the Observation Deck. She was alone, which wasn't unusual, with one arm to her side and the other draped across her abdomen with its hand clasping her elbow.

It occurred to Data in that moment that while she always stood apart, unless at her station, Tasha frequently had some part of her blocking her body or somehow enforcing a kind of personal space.

The only oddity was that she was still. Quiet. This was a rare enough occurrence he almost decided against approaching. The information he had was not urgent. He just wanted to indulge his curiosity as to what she had made of the situation above Deneb IV.

But, she had never found his prodding unwelcome - a change from most humans - so he calculated disturbing her now would have a similar outcome.

"Lieutenant?"

Tasha turned on her heel. He did note that she had the beginning of a shift in gravity, starting to step back ever so slightly until registering that it was him. He was gratified to see her relax. A male presence usually resulted in a 1.37 second shift between realization and a relaxed stance. He warranted a mere .65 of a second.

"Oh, hello, Data." Tasha shuffled her feet a bit and her fingers twitched. Whatever reverie she had been in was certainly gone. After a brief pause, she added, "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Curious," he replied, tilting his head.

"Oh?"

"I have noticed that, when you are greeted while off-duty, one of your default responses is to ask if I need assistance."

Tasha rolled one shoulder - her unique variant of a shrug. "People don't tend to seek me out." The color rose in her cheeks. "And Troi has been asking me to stop."

"Why would Counselor Troi ask you to cease with one of your default greetings?"

In another form of body language he rarely saw in humans, Tasha sighed in such a way that she blew her cropped bangs up and away from her eyes. "Because it's a part of a tendency that's not good for me."

Data found himself coming closer to her side. Tasha didn't take a step back this time. Her voice lowered. "I have a tendency to think of my worth as based on my usefulness."

He frowned. "But humans derive a great deal of positive health benefits from feeling their contributions are of use. there have been innumerable studies on -"

Her hand touched his chest. It shocked him silent. "Yes," she agreed. "But that's not my situation. I'm...still acting like I have to prove I'm useful enough to belong. To be talked to. To be fed and sheltered and -" She dropped her head. "That's not right. People don't need to prove they can add something to a system to be given worth. They're already worthy."

"I believe I understand. I, too, was found by Starfleet and it created a desire in me to become of service to the beings who had rescued me. I will admit that this quest for usefulness has been a primary goal. If I were to be asked to restructure that goal, I believe I would also be at a loss as to how."

"Exactly!" Her gestures became more broad and open and she took a step back towards the window she had been gazing out of. "It's embedded in the good things about me, too. I'm...at a loss how to -" She took her fingers, spread them apart and, in a gesture of connectedness, wove the flattened fingers together and shook them lightly. 

"Hold your fingers together?" He asked.

"No, bring the ideas together." She huffed in frustration. "I'm not frustrated at you, Data," she clarified quickly. "Just myself - again." And with that, she changed the topic back. "So, why did you come down here?"

"I was curious about your feelings towards the situation we encountered on Deneb IV," he admitted. "I had thoughts on the matter myself, but...I do not know what to make of them."

"Why me?" she asked.

"If it is a bother to you -"

Tasha took his shoulder firmly. "No, I love it when you come find me and talk my ear off about things. Please go on ahead."

There were two simultaneous thoughts in Data's mind debating for a place as the dominant interpretation of her words. One was delighted she would let him continue to speak with her on a wide range of topics on a frequent basis. The other interpretation was much less charitable. He struggled with sarcasm, and humans remarked continuously that his tendency to add information was annoying. He struggled between adding too much or too little, but found her erred on the side of too much. It was useful (to a point) in a briefing, but it made socialization extremely problematic and therefore limiting.

Tasha noticed. "What did I say wrong?"

Data took a whole two second to figure out what he was going to say, since now he sympathized with her question and that factor added to the difficulty of choosing words. "Forgive me. I have been told my tendency to extrapolate in conversation is quite annoying and has made creating connections with people difficult. What you said was confusing to me. I was trying to determine if it was sincere or sarcastic."

Her blue eyes went wide a moment. Before he met Tasha Yar, he had read many references to "flashes of anger," but he did not know what such a phenomenon would look like as a metaphorical. The flashes of emotions across Tasha's eyes were surprisingly easy to understand due to their intensity. The flash passed, leaving only sadness and sympathy.

"Sincere," she muttered. "I like you talking to me." Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. "I feel safer with you around."

"Objectively, you are," he agreed. "Your skills are a good match for my abilities."

"Yeah," Tasha fidgeted some more, but now there was a sheepish grin on her face. "You're not wrong.

You asked what I was thought about Farpoint? Well, I was wondering why Q poked at us to investigate. I mean he doesn’t strike me as the hopeless romantic type."

“‘Hopeless romantic?”

Tahsa winced a little. “Yeah, um...Someone with an optimistic view about love and just...I don’t know...supports it, I guess. Someone that believes in happy endings. That things work out in the end; even if they need a little shove.”

Data’s eyebrows raised. “If you are correct, that was quite a ‘shove.’”

Tasha’s laugh was not elegant. It seemed to start at the top of her mouth and air was forced through the sinuses making a kind of spurting growl. Her attempts to contain it further failed and her diaphragm contracted with sputtered laughing. And then she did something no one had ever done outside of pure functional need - like to rise from a sitting position or to take something from it. She took his hand and held it.

“Sorry.” She said, catching back up with her breath, “Didn’t want you thinking you said the wrong thing again.” But she didn’t let go of the hand. “What about you? What did you think?”

Honestly, there were 143 thoughts he was still processing from the experience. Out of politeness he went with the largest subheading. “I was considering that the creatures were so vast and powerful that there could have been much greater damage to the station, or to us.”

“If they wanted to hurt us they would have. They...just wanted each other back - and then to go off and explore. That I understand.” 

“There is another thing.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he replied. “You still have my hand.” Tasha made a silent “oh,” with her mouth and let go quickly. “I do not mind. It is a unique experience.”

Something he couldn’t ascertain crossed her face. Data wondered if he had made some kind of faux pas once again before he felt the hand return to his, this time lacing its fingers in between his own.

**Author's Note:**

> The usual disclaimers: CBS/Paramount legally own them. I'm not overly fond of what they did with these two, so please consider this commentary under the 1978 Copyright Act. Thanks.
> 
> Everyone else: I'm setting up a blog at Dreamwidth under GrayArcadian. Come by, ask questions, have some tea, and poke me to write more if you like what you read.
> 
> Special appreciation to BlizzardRose for poking at me hard enough stories came loose.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] After Farpoint, by GrayArcadian](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282874) by [Thimblerig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thimblerig/pseuds/Thimblerig)




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